


half a sunless soul

by antikytheras



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ensemble Cast, Established Relationship, Gen, High Fantasy, M/M, OR IS HE, Plot, read to find out, so much plot, something something raihan is part dragon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antikytheras/pseuds/antikytheras
Summary: Leon is used to expecting uninvited guests, but this is the first guest to arrive entirely undetected by his royal network of spies, and also the first to plummet out of the sky.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73





	1. inauguration

**Author's Note:**

> the aim is to update once a week but i am Busy and can make no promises
> 
> enjoy

Leon is used to expecting uninvited guests, but this is the first guest to arrive entirely undetected by his royal network of spies, and also the first to plummet out of the sky.

Beyond the entrance to the throne room, in the open-air courtyard just beyond, his loyal knights are already in position, forming a tight circle around the man slumped onto the ground, shields readied and swords drawn to defend their king. There is some commotion, of course, but what gets Leon’s attention is the lone knight breaking away from formation to speak agitatedly with one of the royal advisors.

These advisors, men and women holding considerable power, had been gathered here today for a general meeting about the state of affairs in the kingdom, so it is highly unusual for a lowly knight to be attempting to speak to one. Leon watches the advisor reply in short, sharp bursts. He may be too far away to hear the words spoken, but he is close enough to see the tightness in the lines of the advisor’s mouth.

Leon rises from his throne and begins to descend the dais, his cape fanning out across the steps.

One of his spies, ever-present in the shadows behind him, speaks. ‘Your Majesty, I fear this may not be wise. No one has reported any unusual activity in the kingdom. We know nothing of any… guests _dropping_ in today.’

‘A man has fallen out of the sky,’ Leon points out. In the commotion, no one is looking at him, save for the unseen agents who have sworn to protect him no matter what the cost. ‘Perhaps now is not the time for wisdom.’

The spy melts back into the darkness without another word, but Leon feels the weight of his watchful gaze. His people are loyal, almost to a fault. They do love him so.

When he passes through the threshold between the throne room and the courtyard, his advisors are already swarming to meet him.

‘Your Majesty, the man…’ The advisor speaking seems to be having trouble meeting Leon’s gaze.

Leon raises an eyebrow. ‘Yes?’

‘There is… the guard who just spoke to me, he is most insistent that this man is an acquaintance of yours.’

‘Oh?’ That certainly gets Leon’s attention. ‘And what tells him that?’

‘I can hardly believe it myself, Your Majesty, but it does appear that the man has very large dragon wings.’

Blood roars in Leon’s ears, and his heart stops for a beat.

‘Disperse,’ he orders, striding forward, and the advisors obey unquestionably. ‘Let me see him,’ he commands, and the two knights closest to him fall back to let him enter the circle.

No matter how many years have passed, Leon would still recognize the man crumpled into a heap on the ground in a heartbeat. His wings are still as large and beautiful as they were the day he left him, and the scales speckled across his body are the self-same constellations that he had counted to sleep in his boyhood.

The man looks up, and for a second, he sees a storm in those strange-dull eyes.

Then his head crashes back to the ground, and his knights are leaping forward to shield their king once again.

‘Enough,’ Leon says, and though there is the surety of a ruler in his words, his heart is turbulent with unease. ‘Bring this man to my chambers. Immediately.’

‘But Your Majesty, we don’t know if—’

Leon turns to stare at the captain, who suddenly looks very small and pale. ‘If your squadron is brave enough to assume that you are better than I at protecting my royal self, you are welcome to test the theory _after_ you move him to my quarters. Are we clear?’

The captain blanches. ‘Yes, Your Majesty, please forgive me for my insolence. Men!’ the captain barks, turning to the circle of guards, who, unlike the captain, had the sense to hastily put their weapons away. ‘Move him, and be careful about it!’

Once Leon has seen for himself that the guards are capable of gingerly transporting the fallen man, he turns back and taps the nearest advisor on the shoulder. ‘Summon a royal medic to my chambers. Preferably the head medic, if he is not preoccupied.’

‘Y-Yes, Your Majesty.’ The advisor bows and sprints off toward the infirmary.

Finally, Leon sweeps back into the throne room and up the dais.

‘I am taking the rest of the day off. I do not wish to be disturbed,’ he declares to no-one in particular. He removes the cape from his shoulders and folds it neatly, setting it upon the seat of the throne. Then, he plucks the heavy crown off his head and drops that atop the folded, heavy fabric. It lands with a muffled clang. ‘See to it that word of what has happened does not spread beyond these walls.’

The shadows stir, then fall silent in their emptiness.

When Leon enters his chambers, the man who had fallen out of the sky is lying unconscious in his bed.

Leon observes him. The man is dressed in practical adventurer’s garb, an outfit made for the perils of the road, modified only to accommodate his massive, sprawling wings, though they look frail and paper-thin wrapped around him. His breathing is shallow and laboured, and his brows are furrowed in pain. He twists and turns in his sleep, as if beset by demons and other plagues that haunt him even in his dreams. Nightmares that should be long gone, after his transformation had completed all those years ago.

Something is very, very wrong.

The head medic lets himself in without even so much as a cursory knock. ‘How’s he lookin’?’

Leon does not turn to look back at Piers, though the tension leaves his shoulders at the sound of the familiar, welcome drawl. ‘Not good, I’m afraid.’

He hears Piers drag in his cart full of medical supplies behind him. It clatters across the floor. Piers grunts as he pulls the heavy, overloaded cart up to Leon’s bedside, but Leon knows better than to offer the proud, stubborn medic a helping hand.

Piers studies the unconscious man with one hand cupped under his own chin. He has his own long, colourful history with the part-dragon, but if the head medic is at all concerned, hardly any of it shows on his face. His gaze is entirely professional when his eyes dart across his patient’s body thoughtfully, pausing on his too-pale face and the pulse jumping erratically in his neck.

‘How far did he fall?’ he asks briskly.

Leon shakes his head. ‘I didn’t see, but it made quite the sound when he hit the floor.’

Piers grimaces. ‘Did he at least manage to land on the grass?’

Leon can hear the sickening crack in his mind, looping over and over. ‘Solid cobblestone.’

With a sign, Piers turns to his overloaded cart and starts digging for supplies. ‘Of course. Right, so we’re looking at potential bone fractures and internal bleeding. I’ll be checking his spine and ribs first, make sure we can move him without adding further trauma. Could you take his top off?’

While Piers busies himself pulling all sorts of wraps and tools out of the messy mounds in his medical cart, Leon walks up and begins to undress the man, who shifts when Leon undoes his collar, fingers brushing against the blazing-hot skin of his neck.

The man stirs, and then suddenly those bright-blue eyes are pinning Leon where he stands.

‘Fuck,’ Raihan breathes, and then he begins to cough. Bright red blooms against the pure white sheets.

Piers groans. ‘Great, he’s awake. You would have my eternal gratitude if you knocked him back out. Please.’

The strange dullness is gone from Raihan’s eyes, but Leon knows better than to assume the best. He files that thought in the back of his mind, resolving to solve the mystery once they can be sure he is not in any immediate danger.

Raihan’s wings unfurl around him, and he begins to shift his own weight onto his elbows, but in an instant, Piers is by his side gently hitting him with the blunt end of a scalpel.

‘Please do not attempt to get up,’ he says testily.

‘I’m fine,’ Raihan insists, but then he hacks up a horrific glob of dark red and Piers is glaring at him with a syringe in hand.

‘I will sedate you if necessary,’ he threatens. His voice is as level and light as ever, but the frown on his face speaks volumes. ‘Your lungs are punctured, you’re going to drown in your own blood—’

‘Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,’ Raihan bites back, but the bark behind his bite is far too weak.

The thought of Raihan travelling alone on the roads, battered and broken, opens a bottomless pit in Leon’s chest. How many times has he fallen? Does he travel alone? Leon imagines Raihan sitting round a campfire, laughing and eating with some faceless companions, but the happy scene leaves only a bitter aftertaste. He knows nothing of the life Raihan leads, confined as he is through the golden chains that bind him to his ivory tower. The man spewing blood in his bed could very well be nothing but a stranger now.

Leon withdraws his hand from where it had been resting against Raihan’s warm, jumpy pulse. Both Raihan and Piers watch the movement, staring for just a second too long.

‘Right then,’ Piers says smoothly, wrapping one hand tight around Raihan’s arm. ‘I doubt you’d want to be awake when I’m slicing open your chest anyway.’

Raihan is still staring at Leon’s hand. Then he looks up to meet the king’s gaze. Wretched, aching loss and confusion are written plain across his face when he opens his mouth, but before he can ask any dreaded questions, Piers’s sedative floods his system and Raihan’s head dips forward.

Leon catches him in both arms. Everything feels so wrong, like his movements are too jerky for the ragdoll slumped against his chest. He gently sets the part-dragon back into bed, reaching back to ensure that the pillows he rests on are soft and perfectly fluffed.

When he turns to look at Piers, the medic gives him a meaningful, reproachful look. ‘It is my highly professional opinion that you two should have a nice, long, relaxing talk once I leave. Doctor’s orders, understood?’

After too-many hours, Piers emerges from the king’s bedroom wheeling his rickety medical cart in front of him. There are all sorts of little bags dripping with blood, and one even looks like it contains several hefty, dark chunks of flesh. The head medic looks exhausted, which means that his eyebags are only slightly worse than usual.

When he turns and almost shoves his cart into Leon sitting on the floor by the entryway, he peers at him over the top of his murder mobile and stares, raising an eyebrow. ‘Have you been waiting out here this whole time?’

The king’s private chambers are unpatrolled and strictly off-limits to all members of staff, unless they are specifically summoned by the king himself. Though his guards and household staff had attempted to argue, then wheedle, then cajole their way into his quarters, Leon had resolutely refused all security and only agreed to allow housekeeping into his chambers for two hours a day. It had certainly helped his argument when he had challenged and defeated all his knights in combat, be it in duels, group ambushes, or surprise attacks, and the housekeeping staff had at least had the sense to learn that as long as they were effectively mute and invisible, the king would not utter a single complaint.

His spies had not attempted to oppose his decision, merely changing their positions such that every single entryway (be it door, window, or vent) to his private chambers remained under constant watch.

And so it is within the blessed privacy of these four walls that the great king is able to sit on the floor with his back to the wall like a child sent outside the classroom for forgetting his homework.

‘Yes.’

Piers stares at the plush, cushioned benches lining the hallways. ‘You have furniture.’

‘I know,’ Leon says tiredly. He had first sat on one of the benches for an hour, then paced in front of another for fifteen minutes, then lay down and slept badly on yet another, and then he had given up and lain down on the floor for a good chunk of time before pulling himself upright next to his own doorway. ‘How is he?’

Piers throws himself down onto the ground next to Leon, one leg stretched out in front of him while he rests his back against the wall. Displeasure makes itself known in the lines of his frown, but he is the epitome of polite grace when he says, ‘His body is fine. I’ve patched the worst of it up, and the rest will heal quickly, thanks in no small part to his gifts. But I am not good with magic, as you are well aware.’

It comes as no surprise that the part-dragon’s affliction is rooted in enchantments. ‘What is it?’

Piers shakes his head. ‘I do not know. Raihan’s… condition is a mystery in itself, and I would not have the slightest idea of where to begin looking for a diagnosis.’

The king thinks back to his adolescence, to the blind, unyielding faith with which he had faced Raihan’s fear in his unusual developments. Even now, he does not see himself fit to question the changes that had come over Raihan, be it their origin or in their effects. And now the chasm between them has grown so cold and so deep that it would not even be appropriate to entertain the idea of delving into his secrets.

He realises that Piers is watching him, waiting for some sort of reply.

‘He has never told me,’ Leon says at last, ‘and I have never wanted to know.’

Piers’s gaze grows thoughtful, but he is too polite and understanding to ask any further. ‘I could search the libraries,’ he offers. ‘Discreetly.’

Leon closes his eyes, and the world falls away to soothing emptiness. ‘I would appreciate that.’

He can hear Piers’s smile in his voice. Leon has never fully understood him. ‘Of course. The bastard is, unfortunately, one I would call a friend.’

Leon can only offer a hum in reply.

Once Piers leaves his quarters, he is almost blessedly alone.

When he opens the door to his own bedroom, the part-dragon is sleeping soundly on sheets that are white and pristine. Piers must have brought some sort of protector for the bed, and if the neat heap of folded bloodied fabric on the floor is anything to go by, the head medic had even gone so far as to change the bedsheets.

Piers has always been too kind.

Leon reaches out to run a hand over the folded sheets. The blood is cold, stiff in its dryness, and so-very-human, nothing like the ever-burning fires that usually raged inside Raihan. Or, perhaps things had changed, and Raihan’s blood no longer burned like a candle in the frost.

He lets out the breath he does not remember holding. Seven years of silence had been nigh-unbearable, but he had adapted as best he could. One day Raihan had simply vanished, and Leon had held fast to nothing but faith and trust.

The problem, he realises, is not that Raihan had disappeared. He had always known that Raihan would come back to him, be it after a year, or a decade, or a century. The problem is that he had fallen out of the sky, and Leon had known nothing about it, had been unable to _do_ anything about it, until Raihan had already split himself apart upon the ground and could only look up at him with those strange-dull eyes.

With every recollection, those eyes only grow more accusing in Leon’s mind. It takes some effort for him to banish the thought.

He withdraws his hand. No need to dwell over empty sheets when the man in question is already sleeping in his bed. He turns to look at Raihan—

—only to find him sitting upright, too-stiff and too-blank, watching him with familiar, golden eyes.

‘You’re not Raihan,’ Leon breathes.

The _thing_ smiles. ‘No,’ it agrees, ‘not _yours_ , at any rate.’ It speaks with Raihan’s mouth, but its voice is the crunch of claws against ancient coal.

‘Who are you?’ Leon demands. Every muscle below his neck is frozen, and now he sees that all around them, the bedroom has fallen away, out of their present reality. This is nothing but an illusion.

The thing laughs, mirthless and mocking and cruel. It floats off the surface of the bed, wings extended to their full length, and it drifts toward Leon like a predator stalking its prey, something-like-hunger shining in the teeth of its smile. ‘Do mankind’s customs no longer necessitate the greeting of kings?’

Leon’s heart thunders in his chest. Within the illusion, it sounds like the great flapping of wings. ‘What do you want with him? What must I do to get you to leave him alone?’

For the briefest of moments, something-like-pity comes over the thing’s face, but in the next instant, it is gone. It comes to a stop just in front of the king, close enough for Leon to feel that it does not draw breath, but not close enough to touch.

‘Nothing,’ it says simply. It no longer moves Raihan’s mouth to speak, but its voice thunders in Leon’s aching skull. ‘We have come to do naught but pay our _respects_ ,’ the word drips with poison, ‘to the great king, brave and foolish though he may be.’

‘Then give me your name,’ Leon commands, and _oh_ , how the thing laughs.

‘Most mortals would have prostrated themselves in awe and fear by now, but you are braver and more foolish than most.’ Those familiar golden eyes are mocking mirrors of his own.

Before the terror can squeeze his throat shut, he fights to bite out, ‘Tell me what is happening to him.’

It laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

And then it is gone, and the bedroom is back, and Leon’s muscles relax all at once and he crumples to his knees. When he gasps, the air hits the inside of his lungs like sharp icicles, but he fights the pain and stumbles to his feet.

Raihan is still sound asleep, but when Leon gently brushes a finger over his cheek, he stirs and wakes immediately, just like he had earlier.

His eyes are bright and blue. ‘Leon,’ Raihan murmurs, breaking into a tiny smile.

‘We can talk later,’ Leon promises quietly, stroking his hair and cupping his cheek. ‘How are you feeling?’

Raihan closes his eyes. ‘Like Piers just yanked my ribcage open and knit me a whole new set of lungs.’

They fall back so easily into old banter and routines, Leon reaching for Raihan’s hand and lacing their fingers together. ‘I’m sure you have stories to tell. Seven years _is_ a long time,’ he says far-too-lightly.

Raihan’s eyes snap open. ‘Seven years?’

Leon stares, and the dread pooling in his stomach returns. This was one of the possibilities he had entertained, but up until minutes ago, it had seemed so unlikely. Many impossibilities were now becoming far too possible. ‘Raihan, tell me what year it is.’

He does.

Leon’s grip on Raihan’s hand is white-knuckled. ‘That was six years ago.’

Raihan’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to speak, but Leon shushes him, relaxing his grip and rubbing the back of Raihan’s hand with his thumb. The scales dotting his wrist are still there, and if he reaches a little, he can lightly run a fingernail over them.

‘We can talk later,’ he promises again, ‘but for now, can we just fall asleep together?’

There is a storm building in Raihan’s eyes, but he nods and turns to his side. Leon comes up behind him, easing himself into the bed and curling one arm carefully around Raihan’s bandaged waist.

He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of Raihan’s hair. It is still the same comforting scent of pine and burning wood, and even in his current state, Raihan is warm and solid in his arms.

‘I missed you,’ Leon says.

Raihan’s grip on his hand is tight, a lifeline in the terrifying unknown. ‘I missed you too.’


	2. stasis

The next morning, Leon is rudely awoken by the sound of his door slamming open.

‘Lee! Is it true? Is it really true? I heard—’ Hop’s loud excitement ends in a yelp when he makes eye contact with his older brother, who currently has one eyebrow raised and his arms wrapped around a peacefully dozing, half-naked Raihan.

The nineteen-year old turns bright red. ‘ _Oh my god I am so sorry_ —’

And the door slams shut again.

Leon groans. ‘Forget it. Just come in, will you?’

His little brother’s voice cracks when he squeaks, ‘It’s okay! I think I’d rather… talk to you… from here…’ The bravado in his voice gets smaller and smaller each time he trails off.

‘This is why I told you to always knock,’ Leon chides.

He can imagine Hop with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands clapped over his ears in embarrassment when he yells, ‘This wasn’t a problem for the last seven years!’

‘And yet you still knew he was here,’ Leon points out. ‘We’re not naked.’ Well, technically half of Raihan is, but not the half that really matters to his blushing little brother. ‘Come in.’

The door to Leon’s bedroom swings open in tiny increments. Hop pokes his head in and, relieved to find no evidence of night-time activity, inches into the room.

When he turns his gaze to Raihan, all the embarrassment wipes off his face in an instant, replaced by awe-struck wonder. ‘He’s back. He’s really back.’

Leon looks down. He still can’t quite believe it himself, but what he does know is that the Raihan in his arms is solid and warm and _here_. ‘Yeah.’

Hop won’t stop looking at Raihan, like he’s afraid that the part-dragon will disappear once he looks away. ‘Is he… really okay?’

Two haunting, golden eyes flash into Leon’s mind. Hop doesn’t know the specifics of Raihan’s transformation, but he had been there when Raihan’s wings had first sprouted, and when they had quickly grown to their full length.

None of them had questioned any of it, and now—

‘I mean… I can’t imagine falling from that high up.’

Terrible, ancient illusions are not things that Hop should be subjected to at his age, so Leon keeps the worries and fears nibbling away at his mind under wraps. Instead, he says, ‘Yeah. Piers did a great job putting him back together.’

Hop breathes out a sigh of relief, but before he can say anything, Raihan pipes up drily, ‘Quit telling everyone I’m dead.’

Leon looks down. Raihan has one eyelid cracked open. If not for the fond smile on his face, he could be the perfect picture of an ancient dragon staring down at some impudent adventurers intruding upon his hoard.

Leon firmly pushes that image out of mind and mirrors his smile instead. ‘Sometimes I can still hear his voice.’

Hop wrinkles his nose. ‘You guys are _gross_.’

‘I missed ya too, kiddo.’ Raihan’s grin is incorrigible. ‘You really grew like a weed, huh?’

Hop had, indeed, enjoyed multiple growth spurts over the course of his puberty, but most people still assume that Leon is the taller brother, probably because of that heavy golden crown that usually sits atop his head. Thankfully, Leon is still broader and more muscled than Hop, if only because Hop spends too much time in the laboratories with Sonia.

Hop points at Raihan with a grin of his own. ‘Yeah! I bet I’m taller than _you_ now!’

And just like that, Raihan is instantly fired up. Leon has never understood _why_ the two of them have always been so obsessed with their heights, but he still watches, amused, as the two begin to bicker back and forth.

‘You’ve barely got anything on your big bro, you’ve still got a long way to go before you could even _think_ of challenging me—’

‘Hey! I’ve got more than enough, and you’re not _that_ tall yourself, you long, skinny twig—’

‘Says the one drowning in his lab coat,’ Raihan snickers.

Hop huffs and crosses his arms. Leon notices him gathering up the excess fabric in the balls of his fists. ‘You’d be drowning too, if you wore anything other than skin-tight clothes.’

‘Hey, if I have to tailor my clothes to fit my wings, I might as well look _good_ —’

‘Alright, children, settle down,’ Leon cuts in, only to find the two turning their heated glares onto _him_. He holds a hand up placatingly. ‘Why don’t we go get breakfast?’

Hop waits in the hallway outside while they dress and freshen up.

Leon sheds his day-old clothes and reaches into the back of his closet, where he keeps his spare bundles of commoner’s outfits. The cloth is rough against his skin, which he does not particularly mind. It serves to dampen his imperial presence well enough.

Raihan emerges from the bathroom. ‘You’ve really upgraded your whole living situation, huh.’

When they had been younger, Leon had stubbornly insisted on keeping his lavish lifestyle confined to the four walls of his childhood bedroom in the castle. Over the years, it had evolved into a study, and then once he had become king, his royal advisors had all but marched him out of his own bedroom and into the maze-like vastness of his current living quarters.

He had tried to fight it by pointing out that he would never get to any meetings on time, but then his advisors had replied that they would merely wait for their king to arrive, as was their royal duty. There had been no arguing that, and so Leon had quietly accepted his new home.

It’s so much brighter now that he is not the only one inhabiting its walls.

Leon tosses a cloth bundle back without looking. He hears Raihan catch it.

‘Yeah. My advisors would go into collective apoplexy if I didn’t have a whole wing of the castle to myself.’

‘You’ve changed,’ Raihan says quietly.

Leon turns back with a smile. ‘Seven years will do that. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of surprises for me too.’

Those storm clouds are gathering in Raihan’s eyes again, but he does not reply.

It doesn’t matter. Leon has waited seven years. He can wait some more.

The second they exit Leon’s quarters, Leon can feel the weight of his ever-present spies watching them, but they do not come close. They never do. It’s why Leon likes them best.

‘I’m starving,’ Raihan comments. ‘What’s for breakfast?’

‘Sonia’s cooking,’ Hop says brightly. ‘She’s already set the table for four. She’s the one who told me to come get you guys.’

In the ensuing silence, their footsteps echo on the stone floor. Finally, Raihan says, ‘Huh. You guys buddies now or something?’

Hop doesn’t seem to think anything of the long pause. ‘Yeah! I’m training under her to be the next royal scientist.’

Raihan looks curious. ‘Yeah?’

And that’s all the encouragement Hop needs to start launching into a long, detailed explanation of his duties and training.

Raihan listens, of course. He always does.

They manage to pass through the rest of the castle largely unmolested. It certainly helps that Raihan and Leon are dressed in shabby brown robes, hoods drawn to cover their heads and faces.

Once they emerge from one of the servants’ exits, Hop abruptly stops walking.

Raihan bumps into him, surprised.

‘We should split up,’ Hop explains. ‘They might recognise Lee if he’s with me, but you know how he is with directions. You remember the way to Sonia’s place, right?’

Raihan stretches, now that he’s out in the sunlight again, where he’s always been more comfortable. ‘Still that same old neck of the woods, yeah?’

Hop grins. ‘Yep! See, things haven’t changed _that_ much!’

Leon can’t help the lopsided smile that crawls across his face. Maybe perceptiveness _does_ run in the family after all.

Raihan’s smile freezes for a brief second, before the gratitude in his eyes melts the frost away. ‘Yeah. Like how you’re still shorter than me.’

‘ _Hey_! Watch it—’

Leon looks around carefully. The streets are relatively empty, and no one’s really looking at them. Hooded figures are a dime a dozen, thanks to Leon’s loyal spies bringing long robes back into fashion. It helps to know that most hooded figures are probably members of the spy network, and even more reassuring to know that the ones that aren’t are being kept under careful watch.

Still, it would be wise to err on the side of caution. ‘Let’s not keep Sonia waiting,’ Leon interjects, before they can start fighting and attracting unneeded attention.

Hop immediately jolts back upon Leon’s chiding. ‘Sorry! I’ll see you guys there!’

With that, he slips into the crowd, and disappears.

Raihan blinks. Then he turns to Leon.

‘What else has changed?’ he asks seriously.

Leon tilts his head. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Since when could _Hop_ disappear into a crowd?’

‘Since the last time our advisors caught him wandering the forest unsupervised again. Something about “preserving the royal bloodline” or something.’ Leon shrugs. ‘It’s really not that surprising, is it? Surely you didn’t think we’d both live every second of our lives under the thumb of royal expectations.’

Raihan stares at him. ‘You really grew up, huh.’

‘Seven years,’ Leon says airily, turning on his heel. ‘Come. Sonia will be angry if we arrive after the food gets cold.’

Leon knocks on the door of Sonia’s little cottage house, and it swings open immediately.

Sonia gives him a pointed look and sighs. ‘Glad to see _someone_ finally decided to show.’

Leon raises both hands in surrender, but before he can say anything, she turns to Raihan and smiles at him. ‘And it’s good to have you back at last. Leon’s still got no sense of direction, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, and unfortunately, I don’t have the time to babysit him anymore.’

Raihan looks like he has no idea what to do with himself. ‘Er… Thank you?’

‘Come, come, don’t just keep standing out there.’ She ushers them in, closing the door behind them. ‘And take those robes off, it’s an awfully hot day.’

Leon busies himself hanging his cloak on one of the many coat hangers sitting by Sonia’s entryway. When he turns back, Raihan still hasn’t moved.

Leon raises an eyebrow. ‘Not taking it off?’

Raihan flinches. ‘Err, I don’t—’

‘If this is about the whole part-dragon thing, it really doesn’t bother me.’ Sonia’s voice floats in from the general direction of the living room.

‘It’s fine,’ Leon adds. ‘Hop lives with her. There’s no way you can break anything he hasn’t already.’

‘I heard that!’ Hop’s chagrin floats in from the same general direction that Sonia’s voice had come from.

‘I paid!’ Leon yells back.

His cheeky little brother has the nerve to reply, ‘Well, it’s not _your_ money, it’s technically _our_ money—’

‘I don’t remember blowing up half of the greenhouse _together_ with you,’ Leon points out, and he is met with a sullen silence.

Raihan still looks hesitant, but he slowly extracts himself from the scratchy brown cloak, careful to avoid extending his wings too much as he untangles himself from the loose fabric.

Leon takes the cloak from his hands and hangs it up next to his own. ‘Go on, they’re waiting inside.’

Once he is done hanging up Raihan’s cloak, he makes his way to the living room. There’s a full breakfast spread on each of the plates laid out on Sonia’s dinner table, along with four mugs, three of which are already filled with either coffee or tea.

Leon takes a seat at his usual spot. His coffee is dark brown, and he knows there are already two sugar cubes inside. He grins. ‘Breakfast fit for a king.’

Sonia walks out of the kitchen with one pot of coffee in one hand and a pot of tea in the other. ‘I’m glad you like it,’ she says, amused.

Hop scurries after her with an armful of utensils. ‘I made the eggs!’ he says excitedly.

Leon stares at the scrambled eggs. They look perfectly fluffy. ‘Really? It looks incredible.’

Hop looks very pleased with himself. ‘See? I don’t set _everything_ on fire.’

In the meantime, Sonia asks Raihan, ‘Do you prefer coffee or tea?’

‘Oh!’ Raihan looks up with a start. He has his wings wrapped tight around him. ‘Yeah, tea’s good, thanks.’

‘You’re in for a treat,’ Leon tells Raihan solemnly. ‘Hop made those eggs.’

Raihan stares at the perfectly fluffy yellow eggs. ‘Hop can _cook_?’

‘Don’t worry,’ Leon says drily, ‘it’s news to me too.’

The rest of the breakfast plate is as delicious as the eggs. By the time they’re done stuffing themselves, Leon feels like a very round bear ready to hibernate for winter.

‘Thanks for the meal,’ he mumbles. If he tried to speak any louder, the pressure from his diaphragm would probably make his stomach explode.

Beside him, Raihan eyes the leftover bacon on his plate. ‘Not gonna finish that?’

At some point during their breakfast, Raihan had had to unfurl his wings, so that his arms were free to reach for the plates and utensils. Sonia had stared at the webbing in his wings for a second too long, but if she had anything to say, she had evidently chosen to save it for later.

Leon slides the plate over. ‘Go for it.’

‘I see you’ve got the appetite of a dragon,’ Sonia remarks lightly.

Raihan stops chewing mid-bite and makes a nervous, questioning noise.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners. I’ve been researching dragons recently.’ She refills Raihan’s cup of tea, then sets the pot back on the table with a quiet thud. ‘Galar has a rich history with them, but for some reason, no one’s really delved deep into the science and legends.’

Raihan swallows the bacon and sips the piping-hot cup of tea. ‘What kind of legends?’ he asks, a beat too late.

‘Oh, you know. Magic pacts, elder dragons, the curse of the dragonkind— the kind of things people come up with to explain why some people look different, even if there’s no substance behind the stories.’

‘Is that what Hop studies too?’ Raihan asks, casual and curious.

Sonia laughs. ‘Goodness, no. He likes plants.’

Hop beams when he reaches behind him to reveal a flowerpot housing a very peculiar flower. The colour of the rosebud at the end of the thorny stalk is perfectly split into two, one half pure white and the other a deep, beautiful maroon.

‘It’s a chimera,’ he explains, beaming.

Leon can’t stop staring at it. It’s beautiful, but something about it is screaming at him to be horrified at the grotesque display.

A knock sounds at the door. Three polite taps— one long beat and two perfectly sharp staccato notes.

Sonia frowns. ‘Has it been that long already?’

Raihan looks utterly befuddled, but Leon motions for him to wait and goes to the door alone.

He slides open the tiny slot meant to serve as a peephole. ‘Speak,’ he commands, and the spy on the other side of the door obeys.

‘Your Majesty has an appointment with the head medic in thirty minutes.’

He had arranged no such thing. Something is wrong.

‘Very well,’ he replies. ‘Dismissed.’

After many apologies from Leon and many assurances from both Hop and Sonia, the king and the part-dragon leave for the infirmary immediately.

Raihan picks at a stray thread on the mouth of his hood. ‘Secret signals, huh?’

‘It’s a compromise,’ Leon explains shortly. ‘I get my freedom, but they get to drag me back to work when it’s important.’

Raihan whistles. ‘Interesting system.’

Despite the worry expanding in his chest, Leon can’t help the smile that crosses his face. ‘It’s still a work in progress, but it’s going rather well.’

Leon’s pace is quick and sure, his plain boots tapping against the cobblestone roads. Raihan follows behind easily with the help of his long legs.

‘I’m surprised you’re not getting lost.’

‘I am,’ Leon says calmly. ‘Look ahead.’

Raihan traces his gaze to a hooded lady with a basket in her arms. She skips along the road, moving ahead much more quickly than they are. Yet, every time, just before she gets out of sight, she stops to coo over a flower and picks it, adding it to her basket, before skipping ahead again.

Leon needs only follow in her footsteps.

‘Are your spies everywhere?’

‘Yes.’

‘Doesn’t it get tiring?’

Leon laughs. ‘I’d rather have them than the assassins.’

Raihan stares.

They spend the rest of the trip in silence.

Piers greets them with a beautiful scowl. ‘Of _course_ you’re up and about.’

Raihan shrugs. ‘I’m all better already, why _wouldn’t_ I be up and about?’

The head medic puts down the book in his hands. He’s seated at his desk in the offices of the infirmary. When they had entered the room, the first thing that Leon had noticed were the towers of books lining the edge of his table. The writing on the spines ranges from anatomical terms to children’s fairy tale titles.

‘If you break anything again—’

‘You’ll put me back together,’ Raihan cuts in with a cocky grin. ‘Isn’t that right?’

Piers stares, unimpressed. ‘I will leave you to die.’

‘What have you found?’ Leon interrupts, before they can bicker any further.

Piers turns away from Raihan and gestures at all the books spread out on the table. ‘There’s a lot about dragons, and a lot about humans killing dragons, and a little bit about half-dragons, but not a lot about humans turning _into_ dragons.’

Raihan’s gaze snaps to meet Leon’s. ‘What’s going on?’

‘There’s some sort of curse on you,’ Piers says to Raihan in the same tone of voice he’d use to diagnose someone with the common cold. ‘I’ve been told to figure out what that curse is.’

Raihan stills. ‘I don’t—’

Piers rounds on him and snaps, ‘You are a stubborn _fool_ —'

‘Last night,’ Leon says quietly, and they both fall silent, ‘whatever’s cursing you tried to talk to me.’

Raihan stares down at the floor. They all hear the shriek of his scales scratching against the leather-bound book in his hands when he clenches his fists around it.

‘It was malicious, and cruel, and powerful, but it spoke through an illusion. It said it was paying its respects to the king, whatever that means.’

Raihan still won’t meet his eyes. ‘I told you,’ he says, dull and weary, ‘I know what’s happening to me. You don’t have to look it up.’

‘You’ve been having nightmares,’ Leon points out, and Raihan doesn’t make any move to deny it. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, let me—’

Raihan spins to look at Piers and cuts Leon off. ‘You’ve known all along, haven’t you?’ he accuses.

There’s a calculating look in Piers’s eyes, but he nods.

Leon stares at him. ‘Then why did you lie to me?’

Piers shrugs. ‘Not my secret to tell. Not until _he_ let it out, anyway.’ He tilts his head at Raihan.

Raihan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he finally speaks, he looks at Leon, and his eyes are the clear blue of a cloudless day. ‘I came back to ask for your help.’

_He does not remember ever entering the forest._

_He knows that it is always dark. Roots criss-cross the rot of the forest floor, feeding off the dead in the dark. The trees soak up what little life is left of the fallen leaves, extending their thick, gnarled branches ever higher, ever deeper, until the canopy of leaves is an impenetrable cloud against the light of the outside world._

_There is only one path. The trees never intrude upon it._

_Once, on a left fork of the path, he sees a single black door, surrounded by nothing but trees and more trees. When he works up the courage to push the door open, he finds that it is nothing but a plain, simple doorway standing in the middle of the forest. It leads nowhere._

_Something inside him screams for him to_ move _, and so he does._

_He has lost all notion of time, but at some point, he thinks he sees red eyes watching him. He does not look back._

_A white horse appears, in the far distance, but that, too, he ignores. If he stops, the shadows will catch up to him._

_He keeps moving forward. The forest never ends, but there is an end to his strength. And so his legs grow heavy, his pace slows, and finally,_ finally, _he falls to his feet at the base of a gnarled, twisted tree._

_He blinks, and the tree changes. Shining golden flowers cascade down the bark of the tree. The springy grass blanketing the forest floor seems so very out of place, yet the way the blades tickle his palms is achingly familiar._

_A single flower drifts down from the tree. It hums with power._ His _power._

 _He reaches out to touch it, to reclaim what is_ his _—_

_And it dances away in the wind, just as his fingertips begins to turn to shimmer and turn iridescent._

_The strange, rainbow translucency creeps down his arms, and he can no longer feel them. As the colour fades from his body, so too does his sense of touch._

_He remembers to close his eyes as the crystal claims his face, his throat, the precious air in his shining lungs—_

_And that is how he spends the next six years trapped in crystal stasis, with only the dreams of golden flowers to sustain him._

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first time i've ever updated a longfic, which is why i cannot guarantee any sort of quality writing or coherency out of this. i'm treating this as experimental practice, so i'm stating right here and right now that this is not going to be a particularly good read
> 
> i'm also in the market for concrit/a beta reader so if u have complaints... fire away...
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/syorobao)


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